


The Worth of Words

by BlondePomeranian



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Character Study, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlondePomeranian/pseuds/BlondePomeranian
Summary: A ficlet sized attempt at making sense of Fenris' motivations regarding Hadriana and then Hawke. SFW.





	The Worth of Words

“I believe you.”

The lyrium had flared—the beast’s eyes opened and teeth gleaming. Yet, he had hesitated.

But only for a second.

 

“But you gave her your word,” Hawke said, not a drop of accusation in her voice.

“I know what I did. It was different.”

“How so?” she persisted, the careful curiosity in her voice tempering him.

Fenris shifted, taking a half step back. “I wanted to let her go to spite her and Danarius, to show them that…” He trailed off, ran a hand through his hair. She could never know what he’d gone through, what it’d done to him. He considered brushing her inquiry aside—it’d be easier, simpler, let them think him a monster…

He met her eyes with a hard, narrow stare, prepared to bristle. She could never understand. Yet—tilted eyes, inquisitive gaze, patient voice that never spoke over him, always waited until she’d listened fully—maybe… she wanted to try.

The steel in his gaze lost its edge, and he looked away. “They tried to turn me into a mindless monster, their pet wolf. I didn’t want to give them that satisfaction. I wanted to show them it didn’t work, that they couldn’t break me. But…”

He remembered the moment it all changed—when the fear began to melt away, he saw the face of his tormentor, manipulator, the wicked, maniacal bitch. It was her fault he lived chained to this anger, this hatred that breathed fire down his neck. She’d never known mercy before; why did she deserve to find it in the hands of one she’d tortured? Let her die at the hands of the monster she’d helped create.

“…I couldn’t.”

Hawke stood quietly observing him, arms crossed, but there was no sign of judgement in her eyes. After a moment, her eyes flitted away, as if she’d realized she’d been staring.

He heard the words between them before he recognized them in his own voice, “I made that choice. I am not the mindless monster they tried to turn me into, Hawke.”

Their eyes met, an unspoken intensity behind their gazes.

Hawke was the first to blink. “I didn’t mean it like that, Fenris.”

He wanted to believe her, but he could see uncertainty like smoke in her eyes, and where there’s smoke… His words poured out like rain. “This hate… I thought I’d gotten away from it, but… it seems to dog me no matter where I go.” He felt her eyes tracing the white lines on his skin. He followed, losing sight of the world around him, lost in the memory. “To feel it again… to know it was they who planted it inside me… I couldn’t. It was too much to bear, so I—”

He stopped. He didn’t need to look to her to know his words had changed nothing. The steel returned to his gaze and he turned away. “Forget it. I didn’t come here to burden you further.”

But something burned and melted the steel—the same fire that sparked in her now spread in him. Doubt, uncertainty. But, to what? He pinched his eyes shut for the moment. He was in control, determined to not let it affect him.

And so it didn’t, until he felt a touch on his arm. Not through his armor, direct and urgent but soft—skin on his skin. Then the wildfire burned beyond his control. Not one born of doubt or uncertainty but just the opposite.

It wasn’t until he saw the light reflected in her wide eyes, felt the jolt in his shoulders as he pinned her against the wall that he hesitated.

_I am not the mindless monster they tried to turn me into, Hawke._

_You have my word._

Fenris dropped his hands from her shoulders, trying to untangle the words that clumped in his throat. That’s when he saw it: the lyrium had flared. The beast’s eyes had opened, and they were gleaming.

But they were not his.

And Hawke did not hesitate.


End file.
